Infernal Drabbles
by a Happy Psychosis
Summary: Creative title, right? A Drabbly-Oneshot-Type-THING for every letter of the alphabet. MOAR CREATIVITY! XD Mostly crack, but a bunch of different pairings,  granted most are Tessiam, then Jessa, or a few where you decide for yourself . You know the drill.
1. A is for Awkward

**Yeah, I know I haven't updated Headgames in forever, but I've hit a kind of stump and I don't even like what I HAVE written. I'll post it anyway, 'cause I figure it'll give you a good lol, but… this happened. First it was just about writers block, and then I couldn't stop, and now…**

**Yeah. **

**Don't own Infernal Device blah blah blah fuckitgoodbyenobodycares blah. :D**

**A**** is for **_**A**__**wkward**_

The thing about love?

It's contagious.

There cannot be just one pair of lovers in the entire world. Others will catch on to the idea, and then they'll fall in love too. And where there is love, there is jealously. And where there is jealously, there is awkwardness. The London Institute was becoming a very awkward place indeed.

A pretty girl named Tessa Grey is with an equally pretty boy named Will Herondale. Jem Carstairs is after her, while Sophie Roberts has her heart set on him, but Thomas has the biggest crush on her, even though Jessamine Lovelace is rather infatuated with him, and secretly Henry Branwell is fighting feelings for her, although Charlotte Branwell wants nothing more than reciprocation from him.

Gabriel Lightwood, it would seem, cannot decide between either Tessa or Will, which would almost make him part of a love triangle if anybody actually cared about him. Nobody does, though, so it's a moot point. __

**Sooo, that's the basics of what they'd be… Yay or nay? **

**Next one's written, so updates rely PURELY on reviews. Fancy relieving some stress by telling me where to stick it? XP**

**And, really, Gabriel is much neglected, isn't he? I think I've read, like, three fanfics with him as a main character. B'aaaaaaaw. T_T Cookies for anyone who writes anything about him… XD**

**Oh, and review also is you feel like ranting about CoFA. 'Cause it's damn well rant worthy. O_e**

**Fuck, I think the A/Ns equal more than the fic…**


	2. B is for Biscuit

**B**** is for **_**B**__**iscuits**_

The young warlock hurried towards her impromptu-mentor/wonderful friend/favourite sparkly Downwolder's house, skirts gripped in one hand and the other holding a plain tin box tight to her chest as though it contained the most priceless of jewels. She dashed up the familiar pathway to the estate that had once looked so large and posh and ominous without a second thought, practically sending Miss Belcourt's poor subjugate (could've been Walker, could've been Archer – did it really matter?) through a wall in her flurry to get the door open.

"_Magnus!_" she called in a way that let you _hear_ the look on her face. It was a ridiculously cheerful one, by the by. "Magnus, guess what I've brought! I- _oh,_ Lady Camille. My apologies, I didn't meant to disturb you." The brunette blushed slightly at her own boisterousness – it was how she and her newfound friendship with Magnus had always worked, but that didn't make it proper.

The beautiful vampire raised a pale, perfectly sculpted eyebrow in a mute question.

Tessa raised the tin, shaking it and causing the contents to rattle slightly. "I have English biscuits," she offered weakly.

"…That's nice."

"They are, yes… Um, would you like some?"

"I'm I vampire, dearheart."

"So you are. Would you like an English biscuit?"

"I am a vampire – undead. I cannot eat," she spoke slowly, as she would to an idiot or remarkably dense toddler.

"Oh… You could look at them?"

"No thanks, if it's all the same."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I'll fetch Magnus."

"I think that's best."

**OATCAKES ARE NOT CAKES! THEY ARE FLAT AND… uh, not cakes. STOP THINKING THEY ARE CAKES! CHAAAAAAAAAAAA! **

**Also, do Americans even USE the word biscuit? I know you call biscuits cookies, while in England a cookie is one of those things of the chocolate chip variety. Just curious. And no, I don't own a horse. And no, I've never met the Queen. =_=**

**Hmph.**

**Am I the only one who loves the idea of Tessa and Magnus being total biffles? I can't get over it.**

**Also, thanks to Kookie-douwh (I love you, by the way. *Takes deep breath* I just needed to get that out XP), I realized I missed Agatha out of that love-fuck-up of a last chapter. Le Gasp! I'm an awful, awful person. But I knew that. Hmm, let's just say she baked those biscuits and everyone wins. **

**Review****, I want to know – who's your favourite character from TID (supporting or otherwise) and what do you think of Tessa? I think she's pretty cool, 'cause she's kind of strong in a culture when girls were taught not to be – and she does everything in a corset. *Shudder* **


	3. C is for Compliment

**C**** is for **_**C**__**ompliments**_

"My, that's a very lovely dress, Tessa."

Tessa looked over to see Henry, and shot him a grateful, blushing smile and a "Thank you, Henry." Casting a look down at herself, she found she had to agree that the deep green velvet and black silk and scattered emeralds of her gown really was almost too beautiful. She'd have preferred her comfy old dresses, but… "But all credit goes to Jessamine." Looking him over, she found herself completely cheered up and fighting down a grin. "You look awfully nice too, Henry. I love your tie."

"Oh, thanks!"

"I'd never have thought of mixing small yellow ducklings and purple dolphins together before, but it's an interesting effect all the same."

**Well, why the hell not? :D **

**Okay, review – what's the weirdest thing you've ever had to wear, or least thing you'd want to? For me, it's a dinosaur costume (don't ask, I'm trying to repress over here), and any dress. Or anything pink. Or frilly. Or floral. Or remotely cheerful. Hmph. **

**Yeah, this sucked but I'm creatively bankrupt… I think I can make it up to you, though.**

**HERE'S THE ****PROLOUGE**** TO ****CLOCKWORK PRINCE****! (Say's it's subject to change, but it's still squeee worthy, right)**

**The Outcast Dead**

The fog was thick, muffling sound and sight: where it parted, Will Herondale could see the street rising ahead of him, slick and wet and black with rain, and hear the voices of the dead.

Not all Shadowhunters could hear ghosts, unless the ghosts chose to be heard, but Will was one of those few who could. As he approached the old cemetery, their voices rose in a ragged musical chorus: wails and pleading, cries and snarls. This was not a peaceful burial ground, but Will knew that; it was not his first visit to the Cross Bones Graveyard near London Bridge. He did his best to block out the noises, hunching his shoulders so that his collar covered his ears, his head down, a fine mist of rain dampening his black hair.

The entrance to the cemetery was halfway down the block: a pair of wrought iron gates set into a high stone wall. Any mundane passing by could see the thick chains that bound the gates shut, and the sign declaring the premises closed— it had been fifteen years since a body was buried here, but the place itself remained, as yet undesecrated.

As Will neared the gates, something no mundane would have seen materialized out of the fog: a great bronze knocker in the shape of a hand, the fingers bony and skeletal. With a grimace, Will reached out one of his own gloved hands and lifted the knocker, letting it fall once, twice, three times, the hollow clank resounding through the night like the rattling chains of Marley's ghost.

For several long moments, nothing happened.

Beyond the gates, Will saw mist, rising like steam from the ground, obscuring the grave markers and long, uneven plots of earth between them. Slowly the mist began to rise and coalesce, taking on an eerie blue glow. Will put his hands to the bars of the gate; the cold of the metal seeped through his gloves, into his bones, and he shivered. It was a more than ordinary cold— when ghosts rose, they drew energy from their surroundings, depriving the air and space around them of heat. The hairs of the back of Will's neck prickled and stood up as the blue mist swirled, forming slowly into the shape of an old woman, in a ragged dress and white apron, her head bent.

"Hallo, Mol," said Will. "You're looking particularly fine this evening, if I do say so."

The ghost raised her head. Old Molly was a strong spirit, one of the stronger Will had encountered. Even as moonlight speared through a gap in the clouds, she hardly looked transparent; her body was solid, her hair twisted in a thick yellow-gray coil over one shoulder, her rough, red hands braced on her hips. Only her eyes were hollow, twin blue flames flickering in their depths.

"William Herondale," she said. "Back again so soon?"

She moved toward the gate with that gliding motion peculiar to ghosts. Her feet were bare and filthy, despite the fact that they never touched the ground.

Will leaned against the gate. "You know I missed your pretty face."

She grinned, her eyes flickering, and he caught a glimpse of the skull beneath the half-transparent skin. Overhead, the clouds had closed in on each other again, black and roiling, blocking out the moon. Idly, Will wondered what Old Molly had done to get herself buried here, far from consecrated ground. Most of the whispering voices of the dead belonged to prostitutes, suicides, and stillbirths— those outcast dead who could not be buried in a churchyard. Although Molly had managed to make the situation quite profitable for herself, so perhaps she didn't mind.

She chortled. "What d'you want then, young Shadowhunter? Malphas venom? I have the talon of a Morax demon, polished very fine, the poison at the tip entirely invisible—"

"No," Will said. "That's not what I need. I need Foraii demon powders, ground fine."

If a ghost could have paled, Old Molly would have paled; as it was, she seemed to flicker as Will spoke, like the flame of a candle at an open window. When he was done, she turned her head aside and spat a tendril of blue fire.

Will exhaled, his breath turning to mist on the cold air. "Surely," he said, "that's not the worst thing anyone's ever paid you for, Old Mol."

It was always like this. She argued, and then she gave in eventually. Magnus had already sent Will to Old Mol several times now, once for black stinking candles that stuck to his skin like tar, once for the bones of an unborn child, and once for a bad of faeries' eyes which had dripped blood on his shirt. Foraii demon powder sounded pleasant by comparison.

She slid her hands into the pouch at the front of her apron. When she removed them, she was holding a faded cloth bag, tied with a scrap of dirty ribbon. She shook her head slowly. "You think I'm a fool," she said, hoarsely. "This is a trap, innit? You Nephilim catch me selling that sort of stuff, an' it's the stick for Old Mol, it is."

"You're _already_ dead." Will did his best not to sound irritable. "I don't know what you think the Clave could do to you now."

"Pah." Her hollow eyes flamed. "The prisons of the Silent Brothers, beneath the earth, can hold either the living or the dead; you know that, Will Herondale."

Will held his hands up. "No tricks, old one. Surely you must have the rumours running around Downworld. The Clave has other things on its mind than tracking down ghosts who traffic in demon powders and faerie blood." He leaned forward. "I'll give you a good price." He drew a cambric bag from his pocket and dangled it in the air. It clinked like coins rattling together. "They all fit your description, Mol."

An eager look came over her dead face, and she solidified enough to take the bag from him. She plunged one hand into it and brought her palm out full of rings— gold wedding rings, each tied in a lover's knot at the top. Old Mol, like many ghosts, was always looking for that talisman, that lost piece of her past that would finally allow her to die, the anchor that kept her trapped in the world. In her case, it was her wedding ring. It was common belief, Magnus had told Will, that the ring was long gone, buried under the silty bed of the Thames, but in the meantime she'd taken any bag of found rings on the hope one would turn out to be hers. So far it hadn't happened.

She dripped the rings back into the bag, which vanished somewhere on her undead person, and handed him a folded sachet of powder in return. He slipped it into his jacket pocket just as the

ghost began to shimmer and fade. "Hold up there, Mol. That isn't all I have come for, to-night."

The spirit flickered while greed warred with her innate sense of self-preservation. Finally, she grunted. "Very well. What else d'you want?"

Will hesitated. This was not something Magnus had sent him for; it was something he wanted to know for himself. "Love potions—"

Old Mol screeched with laughter. "_Love potions_? For _Will Herondale?_ T'aint my way to turn down payment, but any man who looks like you has got no need of love potions, and that's a fact."

"No," Will said, a little desperation in his voice, "I was looking for the opposite, really— something that might put an end to being in love."

"An 'atred potion?" Mol sounded amused.

"I was hoping for something more akin to indifference? Toleration…?"

She made a snorting noise, astonishingly human for a ghost. "I 'ardly like to tell you this, Nephilim, but if you want a girl to 'ate you, there's easy enough ways of making it 'appen. You don't need _my_ help with the poor thing."

And with that, she vanished, spinning away into the mists among the graves. Will, looking after her, sighed. "Not for _her_," he said, under his breath, though there was no one to hear him, "for _me_…" and he leaned his head against the cold iron gate.

***Dies* As I've said, I'm on Team Jessiam (MIDDLE GROUND FTW), but this was nice for the half of my heart owned by Will. ;) Oh, and of the above, I own nothing but the artfully placed pagebreaks. **

**Review to gush with me. Now. O_o …Please?**


	4. D is for Dare

**D**** is for **_**D**__**are**_

"Oi, Tess?"

"What now, Will?"

"I dare you to run up and kick Gabriel in the leg."

For a few moments, she simply stared incredulously. "I- _no_. No, I won't. _Why_ would I do that? _You're_ the one prone to life threatening idiocy, not me."

"…I _double _dare you."

"Hold my book."

**And so her corruption begins…**

**I'm big on the Gabriel abuse, huh? Would you kick him? I would, but then I just like to maim things. :D**

**Review – what's the worst dare you've ever gotten (and gone through with)? Me and my buddies (All guys. Go figure ;P) had to take out the fake blood from last years Halloween, cover ourselves in it and run around the local shop screaming about the zombie apocalypse. Yeah, we're not allowed to go back, but it was funny as hell. XD**

**IN OTHER NEWS: I know what you're thinking – "Is she possessed? She NEVER updates this often :O" (Yes, including the emotocon). And you'd be right. This update was all a ploy! BWUAHAHAHAHAHA! I need to share this with you, minions. **

**I have a strong feeling about Gabriel in future books (and I've yet to figure out if this feeling is positive or negative at the moment). **

**Okay, so many of you have probably already seen this teaser:**

"They're not hideous," said Tessa.

Will blinked at her. "What?"

"Gideon and Gabriel," said Tessa. "They're really quite good-looking, not hideous at all."

"I spoke," said Will, in sepulchral tones, "of the pitch-black inner depths of their souls."

Tessa snorted. "And what colour do you suppose the inner depths of _your_ soul are, Will Herondale?"

"Mauve," said Will.

**Right? (And those of you who haven't are welcome ;)) And on its own this could be fine – just Tessa baiting will as she does. BUT THEN, I FOUND THIS ON TWITTER:**

"Would it be possible for _Tessa_ to start fighting/training like a Shadowhunter?" – Cassandra: _Tessa will_ be being _trained_ in book two — _by Gabriel Lightwood_.

**At first I was like: O_o. And then I was like O.O **

**Can you imagine Will/Jem's FACE? XD**

**For a second I though she was just trollin' but then she posted this:**

The door to the training room opened. Tessa and Sophie turned as Gabriel Lightwood strode into the room, followed by a boy she had not met. Where Gabriel was slender and darker-haired, the other boy was muscular, with thick, sandy-blond hair. They were both dressed in gear, with expensive-looking dark gloves studded with metal across the knuckles. Each wore silver bands around each wrist — knife sheaths, Tessa knew — and had the same elaborate, pale white pattern of runes woven into the sleeves of their gear.

It was clear not just from the similarity of their clothes but the shape of their faces and the pale, luminous green of their eyes that they were related, so Tessa was not in the least surprised when Gabriel said, in his abrupt manner: "Well, we're here as we said we would be. James, I assume you remember my brother, Gideon. Miss Gray, Miss Collins —" 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Gideon muttered, meeting neither of their gazes with his. Bad moods seemed to run in the family, Tessa thought, remembering that Will had said that next to his brother, Gabriel seemed a sweetheart.

…**THERE IS NO WORD IN THE DICTIONARY NOR GIF ON THE INTERWEBZ TO DESCRIBE WHAT I AM FEELING. **

_**Et vous, mon amis?**_** What are y'all thinking? And I think I'm gonna go open a forum dedicated to teasers and gushing over them now… GO CHECK IT OUT AND RANT WITH US!**

**This is prolly getting annoying, so no more rants in future updates. And the drabbles'l get better. **

***Pinky promise***

***…Fingers crossed behind back* **


	5. E is for Eloquence

**E**** is for **_**E**__**loquence**_

"I- you- _I_ can't- you don't- _what_- how the- I don't even- and you _honestly_ – what would- how- _you_- I- I- I- wh – _GAH!_"

Will's only response was the cool raise of an eyebrow and a further infuriating smirk. "Eloquent as usual, I see."

"Why you- and- and- and _I_- well…!"

He leaned forwards as though to explain something to a student. "Use your _words_, Tessie. You're holding a book, for instance, you could improvise with that."

And she did. She bashed him over the head with it.

While Will was taking his turn in spluttering in incoherent outrage, Jem leaned over and grinned at her. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

**He always bragged about leaving girls speechless…**

**How do you see this? Tessiam or Jessa? Bah.**

**Review – morals aside, is anyone as befuddled as me and SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING just shipping a Jessiam sammich? If not what's YOUR ship?**


	6. F is for Fix

**F**** is for **_**F**__**ix**_

The heavy doors of the Institute swing inwards and two black-clad figures slip in. One is covered in ichor and red blood although he is curiously devoid of any wounds himself, and moves with an impatient, tense sort of grace, while the other is cleaner but covered in cuts and bruises and leaning heavily on the jaded cane at his side.

"Charlotte!" shouts the impatient one. "He's finally snapped! He looks like he got into a fight with a rabid porcupine – and_ lost_ abysmally – but he won't let me do an _iratze_ for him! Come and help me hold him down – I'll even let you draw on his face. Charlotte?"

Rolling his eyes as he watched his frustrated friend stalk down the hallway to hassles someone else, Jem started towards the stairs, taking them three at a time and moving at a far greater pace than anyone with a limp had right to. When he finally reached the door, he swallowed his wince and knocked.

A yawning, adorably sleepy-looking Tessa opened it, her cloudy grey eyes snapping wide as she saw him. "_Jem!_ Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?" she gasped.

Without even taking the time to wonder if the blood loss was making him either delirious or blessedly bold, he only grinned and pointed towards his cheek. "Kiss it better?"

**Don't you just LOVE concussion induced adorableness? I do. Slightly OOC, I know, I'm sorry, but it's crack. And who says what he'd do if he was all in love and fuzzy inside?**

**Review – what d'y'think Jem's endgame'll be? D'y'think he'll die? D'y'think someone'll find a cure?**

…**Oooh, look at all the apostrophes. O.O**

**Oh, and here's a mini teaser which supports how awesome this boy is: **"Jem is nothing but goodness. That he struck you last night only shows how capable you are of driving even saints to madness." ~ Tessa, Clockwork Prince


	7. G is for oh God

**G**** is for Oh **_**G**__**od**_

Scowling peevishly out of the library window and glaring at the sheeting rain as though every last droplet fell with the soul purpose of pissing him off is what Will was working on when Jem approached him – the dark haired boy took a moment to consider if the fact that his _Parabatai_ took in his pass-time without a batted eyelid was a bad sign before deciding that he didn't care.

Barely tuning in to his words and still focused on his sulking prowess, Will only caught the gist of the fact. Something to do with '_Charlotte says,' 'assignment,' 'downtown warehouse,' 'basement,'_ and _'I_ _mean it, Herondale. Move.'_

Aforementioned Herondale huffed theatrically, standing grudgingly before bottle-blue eyes widened and he gasped in abject horror. "_Oh God_."

"What fresh Hell?" Jem sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Jem, it's _raining_."

"Your observational skill knows no limits."

"And we're _going_ _into a basement_."

"And what?"

"_What if it's flooded?"_

"Oh _God._"

**(Slash if you squint – what's their name? Jill or Wem? Willem? Jiam (that could work, I mean Jem's real name's Jian, right?) Meh. Whatever. They're cute.)**

**Not the shoes! They're Italian leather! ToT Listen carefully and you can hear Magnus crying at the loss. XD **

**IN OTHER NEWS: It's sunny outside. In **_**England**_**. In **_**April.**_

**I may be dead, bare with me. **

**Review – what's your pet phobia? Mine's 2012 – one of my legit main concerns is that the world will end before some of my favourite book series' are published. Heh. THAT INCLUDES CLOCKWORK PRINCESS AND CITY OF HEAVENLY FIRE! O: B'! **

**Shut up, please.**

**Better yet, Google Nostradamus and crap yourself with me.**

**Next chap's a straight shot of shameless Tessiam (that's Will/Tessa, Catie, since you asked nicely). That's a hint to review and get it out faster, in case you missed it…**


	8. H is for Honesty

**H**** is for **_**H**__**onesty**_

"If you wanted me gone, you should have just said so!" _I'm an idiot to think you could want any different, right?_

"Fine! I want you gone! You don't belong here, Tessa!" _You're too good for this world. Go while I can still let you._

"I don't _want_ to belong here! Not if it means I have to be around _you_, have to _be like_ you!" _Let me in, Will. Whatever's broken, let me fix it._

"Coming from _you?_ Which one of us is part demon here, Tessie?" _Hate_ _me, hate me, hate me. I need you to hate me so I can stop loving you. Hate me. Oh God, please don't hate me, Tessa_…

"I'm beginning to wonder about that myself!" _Not good enough, stupid girl. Of course you're not good enough._

"You don't know anything about me! We are_ nothing _alike!" _You're smart, you're selfless, you're innocent, you're caring, you're strong, you're brave, you're so irritatingly adorable._

"Good! I don't _want_ to know you! I wish I'd never even met you at all!" _I love you, Will, why won't you let me?_

"Great, because dragging your sorry backside out of that room was the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life!"_ I'm so glad I knew you. Forgetting me is good, but I'll __**always**__ remember you._

"I hate you!" _I love you._

"I love you too!" _I hate you too!_

"_Fi_- what?"

"What?"

**D'aaaaaaaaaaaaw!**

**Review – why do you think Will is the way he is? I always thought, and I know some other people have said it, that he opened a Pyxis and the spirits possessed his parents (which is why he hid from them when they came) and him, and while he was possessed he killed/hurt this chick named Cecily (she can't be his sister unless he has two – Cassie Clare said his sister's name was Emma), and even though he might have fought it off, it's still in him which is why he pushes everyone away so he can't hurt them like he did her. The End. **

**But then, I'm insane so I wouldn't take that to heart if I were you. XP**

**Also, you know how all Herondales have the Mark of The Angel on them (that star birthmark like Jace has) because apparently an ancestor had contact with an angel? Does anyone else think that was Will? I just have a feeling. **

**IN OTHER NEWS: No teaser, but I know a lot of you are perves, so I just thought you might like to know that, according to Cassie, Will has a regular tattoo of a red dragon (Wales(Will's homeland)'s national animal) that may or may not be on his ass. :D **

**IN OTHER OTHER NEWS: Yes, kookie-douwh, we Brits DO have the day off on the 29****th**** for a wedding I don't particularly care about *Ducks sniper bullet* Speaking of, did you know that a bunch of people've already been arrested for plotting an assassination? Bah. I'd have cracked by now and gotten married in a nuclear bunker ;) They're just people. People with proper, poncey voices, but people nonetheless. Are any of **_**you**_** actually excited for it? **


	9. I is for Intimidation

**I**** is for **_**I**__**ntimidation**_

Of course she noticed it – he wasn't exactly subtle.

The way he'd move to stand slightly in front of her whenever a boy who didn't know him well enough to know to stay the hell away from his girl leaned into her, the way he'd wind a lithe arm around her waist or shoulders whenever they were out, or the icy glares he burned into those who looked her over in _that way_, to name a few of the most obvious. And it wasn't even funny, as it may have been with another boy – when he was trying to be intimidating, he was _damn well intimidating_, and offenders would either move away very quickly or turn the conversation towards, say, the stock market.

It irked her to no end. She wasn't his possession, something to be owned or claimed or marked, and every time he did it she wanted to kick him in the shin for being such an idiot. He knew he could trust her, but his response was always to give an infuriatingly loving kiss and mutter against her lips, "I know. It's _them_ I don't trust." And then she'd melt and forget what she was talking about. Which wasn't fair at all.

It's not until a busty blonde flounces his way, glances at Tessa and then scurries down an alley like she's seen a Ravner armed with a battleaxe that she actually catches herself and realizes her glare is the exact mirror of his.

**Yet another it's-whoever-you-want-it-to-be edition. Jem can be a badass too. And Gabriel has an air of prickishness about him. And Magnus has a dark side (killed his adoptive father, I hear). And we all know Will's a douche. XP**

**Review – Do you think over-protectiveness is cute? **

**I don't. Twilight was basically domestic abuse if you think about it, with a typical 'I man. I strong. I know what best, woman. You stay' and 'if you leave me, I'll kill myself' thing going on. *Shudder* Jace is protective, but not overly so. S'cute when he does it. Sooo… confuzzled much?**

**Oh, and just a heads-up, the next one's kinda depressing… **


	10. J is for Jazz

**J**** is for **_**J**__**azz**_

_("And you want to live forever in the lights you make._

_When we were young we used to say,_

_That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break._

_Now we are the Kids from Yesterday."_

_~ My Chemical Romance, 'The Kids from Yesterday')_

It's been so long, no matter what looking at her forever-sixteen face tells you. Decades since it was all over, in fact.

A lifetime ago.

But she thinks of them – of him – for every time she blinks. Their faces are seared behind her eyelids, smiling and loving but _gone_ all the same. She never stays in one place long, but all over the world there are echoes of them, reminders that strike her like hot salt pokers that stop an open wound from healing.

In the middle of the ocean on a clear day, the water is the impossible blue of Will's eyes; the papers are flooded with women's rights movements, and in the way the Suffragettes hold themselves, she sees Charlotte; when she's all alone in yet another house that could never be home, and the only sound is the _tick-tick-tick_ing of the clocks' cogs and gears and mechanisms, she can't help but imagine Henry tinkering away; as she walks aimlessly around the West End and regards the theatre posters depicting gorgeous actresses, all she can see in their aristocratic features is Jessamine's pretty face; if the grass is too green, she thinks of Gabriel Lightwood's curious stare on her back; in arrogant, power-hungry politicians, she can find Benedict.

It's the 1930's now, and jazz music is floating through the phonogram in a smooth harmony of brass and strings. She closes her eyes as the record spins, twirling alone over the marble floors with an invisible partner as a single tear slips over her sad-smiling face. He'd have loved jazz, she knew. But then, that was always the worst – she cold never listen to music without it leading back to Jem, and what he would never get the chance to hear.

**And we know she's immortal, 'cause she has a cameo at the end of City of Glass. Fun for her. **

**Review – if you could be reborn into any era, which would it be? I'm cool with this one – women's rights and interwebz FTW! But it kind of wish I could skip, you know? I wanna wear a corset and win bets and swordfight and argue with sexist pricks and shout 'YOUR RELIGION IS FLAWED' at the obsessive Middle-Age nutcases. **

**But that's just me. :D**

**Oh, and a shout-out to danielle-redfern because 6 is my lucky number, and she was my 66****th**** reviewer. *Dies of happiness* Gods, I LOVE YOU GUYS! I don't thank you enough for the reviews, and I'm sorry if I didn't reply, but I get that spiky little pang of glee whenever I see a new one. THANK YOU FOR THAT! I have the best minions in the world (fuck you, Bond villains XD). **


	11. K is for Knight

**K**** is for **_**K**__**night**_

It's odd, she realizes suddenly, what pops unbidden to the mind in the midst brink-of-death situations.

And as the cruel slick of the blade is slicing towards her, Tessa thinks, over all things, of the very first books she'd owned. The fairytales and the lullabies – the ones a small, pig-tailed, wide-eyed and frilly version of herself had climbed to retrieve from the high shelf to drag away to bed, where she would sit by candle light and read herself to sleep in the place of the mother who wasn't there.

She thinks of the heroes and the princes who would come in their shining white armour on their proud stallion to swoop the damsel to safety in a neat, choreographed cliché. She thinks of the clean battles that more-often-than-not ended in evil backing down and coming to their own epiphanies of goodness, or are struck away with one effortless but valiant blow from the hero while the damsel swoons obediently. She thinks of the Happily-Every-Afters and the ditzy frame of mind she must once have had to believe in them at all.

Just as her mind is branching off to simultaneously wonder how long it could possibly take for the knife to fall (all that musing and it seemed to have dropped barely an inch) and also if the strange direction of her flashback had been one of those psychological coping mechanisms or an unconscious denial of her doom that grasped for any delusions of hope it could, the door blows open in a shower of splinters and noise.

Tessa's stalled mind almost expects to see the gleaming white knight of her daydreams, but is instead met with a bloody, grimy, beaten and torn figure clad in the darkest black of shadows. Instead of standing with proud ease and an air of dignified humility and assured gentile mercy, the dark figure is coiled like a wild animal – a wolf fighting for its pack mate – and radiating a kind of tension that promises violence and vengeance and a swelling red fury. To her, there is no more beautiful a sight in the world.

As the first (but far from last) assault is loosed with deadly accuracy in the form of throwing-daggers that lodge in her captors arm and force the knife away from her even as his agonized howl chimes with her saviour's anticipatory snarl, Tessa decides to let those silly little girls at home keep their gleaming white knights in shining armour.

She'd take the one who cared far too much for his 'damsel' to worry about composure or appearance, and who's armour was dented and scorched from fighting away the dragon every time.

**I tried to be deep.**

**I don't think it worked.**

**But, it's another insert-your-ship-here one, so that's cool, right?**

**Review – what's your favourite FairyTale? I like the ancient Greek (Artemis and Apollo in particular) ones (love how they're like the ONLY set of Gods who're up front about what douches they are) and Little Red Riding Hood – only in my version she becomes biffles with the wolf and just goes around riding it, killing people with an axe and living in the forest like a BAMF. **

**Happily-Ever-After-ify THAT ONE, Disney. ~ **

**Oh, and I'm obsessed with Disney animateds. **_**Tangled**_** just completely owns my life. **_**Et vous?**_

**(And you people are insane. I got 12 reviews (TWELVE!) and you're all freaking awesome. But a special shout-out to Pyreflies Painter today, because she'd be both a Suffragette AND an assassin in the Italian Renaissance (EZIO! XD PM if you get it!). Which is awesome. Also two mentions including Jack Sparrow and 17****th**** century pirates –The SpaceCowboy XD and xoxosmileyfacexoxo, you rock too) **


	12. L is for Loser

**L**** is for **_**L**__**oser**_

"Oh," said Axel Mortmain, looking down upon the ragged figure on his doorstep as one might look down upon a particularly unpleasant something on one's shoe. "You're back."

"Yes. Yes, My Master. I came back to you," replied the boy, nodding eagerly like a dog who had retrieved his owner's slippers.

"Wonderful," he deadpanned, and made no move to unblock his door. "Evidently you escaped them. How?"

Nathaniel frowned slightly without losing his manic grin, which was disturbing in and of itself. "Uh, n-not precisely, Master."

His gaze was blank, uncaring, but the boy explained anyway.

"They, um, they forgot about me."

The door was promptly slammed in his face.

**Off the Gabriel bashing, onto the Nate bashing.**

**God, I hate that little fucker with the firey passion of a thousand suns. Plus however much Will hates him. Ha.**

**Review – describe for me, in vivid detail, exactly what you think of this prick. Commence!**

**(And yes, I DO know how bad this sucks. Which is a lot. Tell you what, I'll make the next one extra long for you, eh? Because I love my wittle minons. Yes I do. Yesido! Who's a good iccle minion? Whoisit? Whoisit? You are! Yesyouare! You'rethegoodwittleminion! But ****the deds for it go to****kookie-douwh****,**** 'cause she inspired it by saying she liked Magnus/Tessa biffleness – just a little hint there…)**


	13. M is for Magic

**M**** is for **_**M**__**agic**_

When Magnus flounces through his door in the personification of 'sashay,' he is not alone.

Tessa is perched easily on his sofa, curled up with a book and looking as though she had every right to be there. She probably _did,_ but that was besides the point.

"Why, yes," he drawls, hand on his hip. "Just come on in and make yourself at home. Would you like anything else, _Madame?_ Tea? Cakes? English biscuits?"

Her smile is dazzling as she holds up one of his delicate china cups. "I'm all taken care of."

"I told you Walker fancied you," he smiles, flopping down beside her.

"And I told you that the next time you started with you awful innuendos about 'the American dream' and 'British hospitality' I'd happily shred your favourite Japanese silk slippers," she scowls.

"No, you wouldn't," he tells her. "You love those slippers almost as much as I do."

"The pandas are cute."

He laughs again, rich and loud. "I knew this was going to be fun. From the second I saw you, it was like-"

"Like I remind you of yourself at my age?"

"Hm? Oh, God no. I was going to say it was like I saw someone who looked really clueless and annoying, and I sometimes still question your intelligence by the way, but that I'm going to keep teaching you because I like having someone to follow me around like a little puppy."

"I hate you," she huffs, shoving him half-heartedly.

"Don't be jealous of my genius." He shoves her right back.

"For a guy who just got dumped, you've got quite the ego."

"And for a girl who can't even float a marble, you're quite the critic."

"I'll get better at magic."

"And my ego will flourish," he nods. "What a pair we make."

She laughs and they relax into a quiet which Magnus deliberately doesn't break, and leaves them to a comfortable silence as she tries to go back to her story and he reads over her shoulder in the way he knows he hates. He can't help grinning a grin that even the Cheshire Cat couldn't pull off as he watches her fidget and squirm with impatience.

After a few minutes, when she looks near spontaneous combustion, he sprawls backwards onto his pillows with a long suffering sigh. "Oh, go on if you must. You've been dying to show off from the moment I graced you with my presence."

Tessa raises an eyebrow, but he's right and they both know it. Grinning, she pushes the book away and tucks her legs up to face him, biting her lip in concentration. Taking a deep breath, she holds up her fingers and _snaps._ A small, violet flame flickers to life in her palm, growing as she feeds it power. They watch it curl and dance, the light turning both sets of eyes an ethereal purple hue. Tessa looks up at Magnus and grins again.

Magnus is quite astounded at the sheer force of his pride in her. "_Magic_."

**More Magnus/Tessa biffliness. Tessnus (Magessa? Grane?) if you cock your head. FOR YOU, KOOKIE-DOUWH! HOPE YOU LIKES IT, DAH-RLING!**

**D'aaaaaaaaaw. Don't you think the girl should learn some warlocky tricks? Wouldn't you do that if you just one day found out you could do magic? Fuck Hogwarts, LET'S GET OUR NECROMANCY ON! :DDD**

**Review – if you could be a creature from Cassandra Clare's books, what would you be? I'd be a warlock, old as possible, mark being the black wings some have and colour changing irises. Warlocks get all those badass bonuses and get to live forever, while vampires get to die forever – I couldn't live without snacks for a day, never mind an eternity. **

**(Oh, and do me a favour and click Forums. Find the coolest looking one (Hint: It has my name on it XD) and click it. Post your opinions and theories and rave about the teasers and know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE in your psychotic little world of waiting for the release of Clockwork Prince ;) Check it out?)**

**Shout out to NextGenerationTinker for such a disturbingly awesome description of her festering hatred of Nate that made me feel all fuzzy inside ;)**


	14. N is for Nobody

**N**** is for **_**N**__**obody**_

Tessa massaged her temples stiffly, as they seemed to be playing host to a tiny marching band of buzzing bees, pressing her palms over her ears in an attempt to block out the keening drone.

"-and so I was sitting there, through all of this, with no escape, quiet as a mouse, and he just kept on and on! I mean, not to sound rude, but who can honestly say that they would expect such a forward account from a man such as he? I doubt that even-"

Will was banging his forehead on the table top repeatedly in an honest attempt to knock himself out. Concussion, he supposed, would also be acceptable. As would any internal damage that resulted in the blessed memory loss of the past half hour. Hell_, anything_ as long as he didn't have to listen to her _keeeeeeening_ anymore.

"-was just ghastly! Really I must say, and I know you'll think I exaggerate when I recount my experience, but I can hand-on-my-heart assure you it is no word of a lie, I truly could not think of any possible solution to the sheer extent of his-"

Jem had his face buried in his arms as though he wished he could suffocate himself or imagine her away by willpower alone. He'd tried to listen, really he had, but anymore of this incessant chatter and he might just be thrown into a premature 'episode' from pure irritation. The migraine was already present, and he almost wished the bleeds _would_ start, if only as a distraction.

"-so you must see that I really had no choice, and you know what I'm like in theses situations! I'm really a very quick thinker and most social events are only kept afloat by my stimulation, but what on earth could one say to that? Why, it was not even-"

Charlotte, it would seem, had fallen asleep on her plate.

"-and even though I'm well aware of my effect on people, I was honestly flabbergasted at such a revelation! While it is true that he was far from my first offer of courtship, I simply could not believe the nerve of him! Oh, you don't suppose-"

In the end, it was Henry who saved them. Glancing up from his complexly intertwined knife and fork do-hicky, he offered a pleasant, "Do be quiet, Jessie. Nobody likes you," and went back to work.

**I hate her, too. **

**I hate a lot of people.**

**Don't worry, though. I'll always love **_**You**_**. ;)**

**Review – what's your opinion on Jessie Dearest? I mean, I know she's an orphan and all, but I think after reading so many sob-stories I'm rather numb to that by now. Unless it's horrific and they dealt with it like a BAMF. **

**Screw you, Jem, you fucked up whatever was left of my empathy. Cheers.** ~


	15. O is for Obsession

**O**** is for **_**O**__**bsession**_

In the dark, twisted, vile lines of work one is subjected to after exposure to knowledge of the Downworld, many find that their only way to cope is through finding another point to lose themselves in. To focus on. To obsess over.

Jem Carstairs, for example, can often be found lost to his music. Will Herondale drinks away his (rather ex-_freaking_-stensive) troubles in taverns and bars. Tessa Grey finds the escape from the world she cannot trust anymore in the one that never changes; her books and her story tales. Henry Branwell buries his insecurities and befuddlement under the cold-hard facts of blueprints and mechanisms. Charlotte Branwell has her work, Sophie Collins her mundane chores, Jessamine Lovelace her clothes and her petty pretty things, _etcetera, etcetera, etcetera_…

These are needed. These distractions, theses small obsessions are acceptable and crucial.

Others, though…

"DAMMIT, BOY, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"

"But, Master, I love you."

"IRRELEVANT, NATHANIEL! GO AWAY!"

**Nate bashing, yaaaaay! :D**

**And more failed attempts at deepness! Wooot wooooooot! XP**

**Review – Go on then, what's your favourite obsession? Mine's fanfiction and daydreaming. Fuck realism. ;)**

**Also, do me a favour and look up to the review toll. Now back to me. Now do a double take. YOU DID THAT. OH MY GOD YOU'RE ALL FREAKING INSANE WHICH IS PROBABLY WHY I LOVE YOU SO FREAKING MUCH BUT JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER THAT'S OVER A HUNDRED AND WHAT THE HELL AND WHY AND DID I MENTION THAT I LOVE YOU BECAUSE I FEEL RIDICULOUSLY HAPPY EVERY TIME I READ OVER THEM AND THEN I GRIN FOR AGES AND IT'S AWESOME AND OH MY GOD I CAN'T EVEN-**

**Thank you.**


	16. P is for Parabatai

**P**** is for **_**P**__**arabatai**_

_("Our souls are knit. We are one person, James." ~ Will Herondale, Clockwork Prince)_

"_Parabatai,"_ Jessamine scoffed with a curl of her lip, just loud enough for the boys across the room to hear. "Load of tosh."

Will clenched his teeth as Jem clicked his tongue. Tessa, opposite them, sighed.

"If you ask me-"

"Nobody did."

"- it's just something those beastly men on the council came up with to make each other feel important. There's no merit in it at all. Those silly runes don't make the slightest bit of difference," she proclaimed, with a smug toss of her head.

If it was possible for a book to shatter, the one in Will's hand was about to.

"Oh God," Tessa muttered, thinking fast for a way to diffuse the tension before either Will processed his anger into words or Jem launched into lecture-mode. Will opened his mouth- "They finish each others sentences," she blurted.

Three gazes were levelled her way, and she cleared her throat as her grey eyes flickered between blue and silver. "Don't you?" she prompted.

Jem's lips quirked into a smile. "Only sometimes. You-"

"-know, when-"

"-we really-"

"-want-"

"-to. Or-"

"-also if-"

"-we get-"

"-really-"

"-bored."

Jessamine's mouth lolled.

Will barely spared her smarmy glance. "Stop gawping, Jessie, it makes you look like a f-"

"-_ish_. A fish." Tessa finished, throwing him a quick glare. Jessamine's gawp was turned on her, and on either side, in perfect synch, Jem and Will both slung an arm over her shoulder.

**A fish. Absolutely a fish. *Innocent smile***

**Here's my longing for a Jessiam sammich peeking through… Oh well. We're all disturbed over here anyway, eh?**

**Review – There's nothing to say, soooo… *Brandishes clipboard* How does this make you **_**feel?**_

**And we need more people over at the forum! It's where you can go to rant and rave and gush over teasers! Come oooooon, please? SOMETHING HAS TO KEEP US SATED UNTIL DECEMBER! IT'S NOT HARD, PEOPLE! JUST CHECK IT OUT! **

… _**Please?**_** T_T**


	17. Q is for Quiz

**Q**** is for **_**Q**__**uiz**_

"Under the jaw," says the cool, assured voice from the back corner. Its owner doesn't bother to even look up from his book.

Though the room was silent before, the silence now has somehow taken on a shocked quality. The boy continues to read.

Charlotte recovers first, blinking owlishly and forcing her mouth closed to reply in a numb, robotic voice. "C-uh – correct; the weak point on a Shaux demon is below the jaw." And then she goes back to gawping.

"_Will,"_ Jem is doing no better with his dumbfounded stare, even as his friend finally glances up to spare a frown at the room's aghast occupants. "D-did you just answer a question _seriously_? Of your _own accord?_"

The boy frowns some more. "Yeah."

"Are you ill?"

"What's gotten into you?"

"You've never taken these lessons seriously since you got here!"

Wordless, Will turns to the girl at his left side and taps his cheek pointedly.

With a loud sigh and a fought back smile, Tessa gives him the kiss he is owed.

**Bribery can be cute. **

**Pure, shameless Tessiam for all you addicts out there! Jessa'll pop up eventually for the other half of y'all, I promise.**

**Review – Why do you think Will acts like a reckless dumbass all the time when he's obviously smart? I'm thinking he maybe doesn't mind if he dies or not – just doesn't care anymore. Like Jace before Clary, remember?**

**(And I'm sorry if I haven't replied to your review – the sites having a funny on it. 'Cept it's not funny, not even remotely =_= I WANT SOMEONE FIRED, YOU HEAR ME? MY MINONS ARE UPSET! I DEMAND UNLIMITED INTERNETS AS BOON!)**


	18. R is for Rant

**R**** is for **_**R**__**ant**_

"NEVER, IN ALL MY YEARS IN THIS PROUD PROFESSION, HAVE I EVER INCOUNTERED SUCH BLATANT MOCKERY OF OUR TRADITION!" the man screeched, an unsettling mixture of spittle and arms flying in outrage.

"Then you desperately need to get out more," Will quipped.

"DO YOU SEE?" he all but wailed. "DO YOU SEE WHAT OUR REGAL RACE HAS BEEN REDUCED TO? IS THIS OUR FUTURE?" He slammed his hands down on the desktop with shuddering force. "SOMETHING HAS TO BE DONE ABOUT THIS BEFORE IT GETS OUT OF HAND!"

Solemnly, Will threw a block of chalk which hit the man directly in the back of his head. "It just got out of hand."

The unhinged, murderous gaze was directed towards him. He smiled.

"DISOBEDIENCE!" And he was back. "DISOBEDIENCE AND INSUBORDINATION! WHY, I…" The art of blocking out shrieking adults was one long since perfected by Will, and he deployed it now as he folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, the very personification of lazy nonchalance.

Something pushed, and Will had to pinwheel madly in order to stop himself from tipping onto the floor. Grasping at the desk in front of him, he twisted to meet Jem's annoyed stare. "For the last time, Will, no matter how long you make him rant, or what shade of purple you can make his face turn, Benedict is never going to pop enough blood vessels for it to be fatal!" he hissed, cuffing him over the head.

The boy grinned. "Oh, ye of little faith…" With that, he turned back to the raving man and called, "Oh, _Lightwood?_ You're Benedict _Lightwood?_ Fabulous! You wouldn't happen to know if your daughter has mentioned me, would you?"

_**Mizpah,**_** Gabriel. It's time to bash your douche of a daddy now.**

**Seriously, didn't the Lightwoods get cool until Izzy? Sheesh! I'd want them wiped out if not for the decedents!**

**Review – What do you think would happen if Will and Gabriel found out that their descendents (Jace and Alec) became **_**Parabatai?**_** Lulz would ensue, I do believe. And judging by Alec, some of Will's genes must have got mixed in with the Lightwood bloodline too. :D LAWL.**


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